Obsession
by Hello Sunshine
Summary: He wouldn't leave her head: that was something they had in common. But Aiden was tired.


A/N: I feel like I never really like Aiden but I thought I would try an angsty fic with her and I am slowly coming to appreciate her more. This is set after the Mermaid from Montana case. I do not own any of these characters; Jerry Bruckheimer is the proud creator. Constructive Criticism is welcome. Enjoy!

She sipped her tea slowly, savoring the way the steam rose and wrapped around her cheeks, curling in her hair and heating her eyelids. She slowly lowered the chipped china cup to the table, her shaky hands sloshing the hot liquid unsteadily inside. She set it down and leaned back into her old, worn couch. Danny and Flack had told her to get a new one months ago, they had told her that they were convinced that there was some sort of abnormal growth occurring there. Chances were that they were probably right but she didn't have the heart to toss it to the curb. It held too many memories that she was now clinging to desperately. It was old and torn and frayed at the edges; the pillows didn't match and she had had to patch it up more times then she could count. And yet despite its looks, she couldn't leave it behind; it was impossible.

She had been having that problem a lot lately- letting go. Her life was spinning so wildly out of control that all she found she could do was to cling tightly to those things that she knew she could count on: her tea, her couch and him. He was the one constant thing in her new life. He never left her. He was there when she woke up in the morning and when she went to sleep at night. She dreamt of him, of the smell of paint-thinner, of his calloused hands gripping her arms tightly. He always whispered in her ears, the scent of stale-alcohol wafting off of him and she would always fall into him, unintentionally, unwillingly, but she could never help it. She was his prey and in her dreams he knew it. The question was when he would figure it out in real life. He couldn't know about her obsession with him. She always made sure to follow him from a distance. And really, all this time, there had been nothing. She was following a man for no reason other then the fact that he would not leave her head.

He was her demon, her cross to bear. She had lost everything because of him. She had lost her friends, her job, the respect she had had from Mac. She lost Danny and Flack, Stella and Sheldon and somewhere in between she had lost herself. She couldn't concentrate on anything anymore, she couldn't sleep, and she couldn't eat. She had become so wholly consumed by him that she would come home from following him and stare at his pictures spread out across her coffee table, her mind tumbling over the possible victims he might choose.

She jerked her head up at the shrill sound of the phone ringing, cutting sharply through her thoughts. She considered not answering as it rang again but was struck with the sudden thought that he might have finally slipped up and Mac had caught him. In a desperate race she lunged for the phone on its third ring; she ended up hitting her knee on the side of the coffee table, scattering the glossy photos across her living room and knocking her tea over onto her carpet. She swore under her breath and picked up the phone gingery.

"Hello?" She held her breath for so long that he thought that she was going to pass out. She was met with silence.

"Hello?" She repeated slowly. She heard someone take a long, shaky breathe over the phone.

"Hi. Aiden Burns?" A female voice wafted up from the speaker and her heart sunk realizing that it wasn't the news she had been hoping for.

"Yes. Can I help you?" She hadn't meant to make her voice so sharp. How dare this person trick her into believing that they had an answer for her, how dare they…

"You don't know me, but my name is Lindsay Monroe. I…I took your job at the crime lab." Aiden stopped breathing and knelt in her living room, wedged in between her old couch and the coffee table, her hand in the spilt tea.

"I just wanted to…I just…" The woman on the other end trailed off and Aiden felt her heart constrict. She was talking to the woman that had taken her job, her place in the hearts of her friends and Aiden wanted to hate her more then she hated anyone else. And now she was on the phone with her and she wanted to hang up and laugh at her but she couldn't, she was drawn to the vulnerable sound of her voice.

"What did you want." She hadn't meant to sound harsh but she could feel her breathing pick up and the corners of her eyes pricking in imminent tears.

"I…There was this case…I….I don't your whole story but I've heard some of it from Stella…Danny won't tell me, he still misses you; they all do. I…I can't get him out of my head." The last part was said so quietly that Aiden almost missed it. Her heart plummeted to her feet and she felt an inexplicable bond with this woman; this woman who she wanted to hate more then anything.

"We caught him but…he never told me….why, I just don't…I don't know...How do I…how do I make him go away?" She sounded so young and naïve and Aiden wondered if she had sounded like that to Mac when they talked about him, about Pratt. Aiden wanted to yell at her, tell her to let it go and not do something stupid because those people, her friends, _their_ friends, had gone through enough. Inside though she knew, she knew this girl wasn't like her, wouldn't be like her, and was the exact opposite of her and that Mac had seen to that. And she realized at that moment that whether or not Pratt was put away, she would still follow him, visit him, because somewhere along the way she had developed an unhealthy obsession and it would never stop. Not until she was gone, not until she could truly be away from him. She drew a deep breathe, realizing what had to be done.

"Nothing. He will never go away…but you'll be okay. You've got them. Trust them. I couldn't and I paid for it. Don't make them pay for your mistakes too" She heard the tight breathes on the other end and realized that Lindsay was crying. She slowly placed the phone back in the cradle, and stared vacantly around her destroyed living room.

She was old and torn and she was starting to resemble her old couch. Her clothes didn't match and she had had to patch them up more often then she could remember. She was slowly fraying at the edges; her strings were unraveling and splitting with the promise of never coming back together again. She was done with this,; Aiden Burns is done with this life and she knew it a long time ago.

THE END


End file.
